Burning of Washington DC
by artfan
Summary: Yes another 1812 fic XD


**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia: Axis Powers**

**Here we are… I'm sorry but I should warn any readers now that this fiction will favor America. If you don't agree you can present your arguments but please do not flame.**

**Note that Alfred is weak from this fighting. **

**Anyway, this is set during 1814 at the Burning of Washington D.C.**

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><p><strong>August 24, 1814<strong>

"Keep him still!"

Alfred cried out in protest when the five British soldiers nearest to him grabbed him under the arms and wrenched him up so that he had to face the blank faces of his two former brothers.

_Wrong. Wrong._

"I suppose you know what's coming next?" Matthew asked, absolutely no remorse in his tone. Alfred gritted his teeth before spitting at his twin's feet, earning a hard slap across his face from Arthur.

"Don't you dare disrespect your brother!" Arthur shouted at his former colony. The boy didn't look at all shocked. He had been expecting that move.

"Why should I respect him when I know what he is about to do?" Alfred retorted angrily. The light from the torch in Matthew's hand lit his face in such a way so that the shadows under the boy's eyes were that much more noticeable. Arthur grimaced at the sight.

"You have no right to speak. You burned down your own brother's capital!" he shouted right back. The boy looked away; properly ashamed. He had been enraged when he had learned what his people had done, but at the same time he could understand why they did it. Being the personification of a nation meant that you had to see all sides to the story. In a moment of lightness he considered, when all this war business was over of course, trying to pursue a job in justice. At least those bastards who had actually condoned burning his brother (and thus hurting him because really, one had to expect that England retaliate) would get what they deserved; no less and no more.

"What? No more brave words?" England scoffed. "Your brothers are listening." He didn't expect the America to glare up at him… with a smile.

"I have no brothers," he laughed. That earned another slap, but this time from Matthew.

BOOM!

A gunshot was fired from a window in one of the residential houses at the approaching invaders. All three nations glanced over at the scene of the angered British troops tending to the dead horse of their commander and their few injured peers. Alfred let out a yelp when one soldier sent a fist straight into his gut.

"Your people are barbarians."

Alfred groaned as he was shifted so that he was pinned with his stomach on the ground. He glared at the enraged British soldiers but cried out when a fist slammed into the side of his face. These men were furious and Alfred knew that nothing he did would stop them from this beating.

"Stop!"

Alfred glanced up at his former care taker who looked at the unfolding scene with such a blank expression that was much scarier than his angry one. When those cold ivy-colored eyes were turned on him he flinched and then winced at the wave of pain coming from his screaming stomach. Those eyes were telling him to be sorry, to give up or else something bad was going to happen. Even though Alfred knew it was going to anyway he simply looked into the Empire's eyes and spit at him.

With a snort of disgust England motioned for the soldiers to turn America so the boy was looking at the building that the shot had come from. If the Great British Empire had taken the time, he might have noticed that Alfred was smiling, not breaking down and crying like he expected of the boy. No, Alfred was proud. Even though he was currently forced to watch as those soldiers stormed into that home and he himself was beaten. He smiled as he thought of the few locals that had hidden in the house and fired at the invading British; a final act of defiance. Sure he had felt a twinge of guilt at the dying horse but knew in his heart that he would rather die than let the invaders into his capital without at least some resistance.

Unfortunately, the furious British had instantly squashed the effort and Alfred felt his spirits fall considerably. The boy flinched when he felt the screams of the residents in the house as they were killed by a simple swipe of a bayonet and he was forced to watch as the house, that beautiful house, was reduced to dirty ashes.

So engrossed in the disheartening scene before him he was that he didn't even notice Canada staring at him until the other boy actually looked away. When Alfred looked at his brother the first thing he noticed was a torch glowing in his hand. He almost opened his mouth to say something when his brother looked back at him. Canada paused a moment before giving his brother one maniacal grin and tossing the flaming rod into the Library of Congress.

Alfred's eyes widened and he began shouting profanities as he felt the flames and the some 3,000 rare texts burning into nothing but soot and ash. He cried out again when other soldiers burned his Senate and House of Representatives buildings. His treasury was next to go and it left him panting and crying as he felt the burning only intensify. He was in too much pain to notice the twinge of worry that flashed in Canada's eye before he had turned away again.

Alfred gave a choked cry as all other public buildings were set on fire and left to burn in the already scalding summer heat.

"One left."

Alfred's blood turned to ice when he fully comprehended his twin's statement. He instantly began to struggle again and even went so far as trying to get his hands free to punch the bastards holding him down. Unfortunately, England quickly grabbed Alfred around the waist before the boy could get away.

"Let go! They can't! They can't burn the White House! NO!" Alfred screamed and thrashed in his former brother's arms. Tears streamed down his face as he felt the soldiers fucking _sitting down and eating the dinner that had been set_!

"Can't? Isn't that what Canada said when you burned him?" England demanded, shaking the crying boy. Suddenly Alfred froze and glared up at England with such hate that the empire actually felt the need to take a step back.

"You know it's not the same as it is for countries! As a colony, you are ultimately connected to the mother land. In truth, I'm sure you felt the injuries more than my dear _brother_ did-!" Alfred spat only to be caught off when the soldiers all finished their _fucking dinner_ before proceeding to destroy the building as much as they could. He coughed violently and let out a strangled cry when he saw the blood on his hands.

As for Arthur, the man looked stunned at the revelation (he really hadn't given it much thought); he fingered the rather faint bruise that he knew would disappear soon enough. That bruise was absent on Matthew's chest but he knew that the boy had felt something. Still, even he had not spit up blood like Alfred-

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" a piercing scream of pure terror and agony erupted in the air. All the troops winced and glanced back to see the breaking America held fast in the arms of England. The boy was crying and screaming and moaning and punching and kicking but nothing could get him out of England's grasp. The words of 'let go' were repeated over and over like it was the boy's own personal mantra despite the rounds of coughing that left him covered in his own blood. Much of it also stained the Empire's shirt but the older didn't seem to mind as he held on tighter. Matthew looked away… Alfred deserved this… he was sure, he had burned _his_ capital! Still, Matthew looked back at his crying twin and felt guilt knaw at his less damaged heart. Tucked safely in his coat was one of the books that Chauncey had given back to him personally. The other man had given him and the other Canadians quite a few things back, including some private property and more books. He had apologized curtly, saying that this was from his brother. At the time Matthew had shot the man a hateful glare, declared that he had no brother, and sent him away. Now, seeing his brother like this, the book heavy against his heart, he couldn't help but feel that maybe this was going too far.

"Matthew?" a voice asked, breaking his thoughts. Canada glanced up at the glorious empire before him. He was strong, of that there was no doubt. He was kind too, when he wanted to be. When Canada looked into the other's eyes he almost felt the need to barf. There in those soft emerald eyes, he recognized the look of absolute glee and satisfaction. For as much as the man standing before him cried and claimed to love Alfred, he still had it in him to enjoy nearly killing the boy, his brother. _Oh god my bro_- before he could lose himself he looked away towards the grand sight in front of him.

All around residents who hadn't escaped either cried or watched with silent hatred as the sky filled with the dazzling red of their burning capital. Alfred himself looked on with such odium that he was sure the entire army would soon be on fire if he tried hard enough. When nothing happened he made the sound of a dying animal and looked up towards the sky.

Those serene blue skies that Alfred loved so much were gone, replaced by angered red plumes with smoky gray edges that mocked him. He could feel it, the slow and horrible burning and he instinctively tried to bring a hand over the area only to be stopped by the England's arm holding him.

_I can't…hold out much…_

Alfred gazed upon his dying heart and in a sudden burst of strength elbowed his former brother and jumped up to grab the bayonets of the soldiers around him. England instantly had Canada behind him as he pointed his own bayonet at the boy. Alfred ignored the sudden flash of déjà vu that he saw was going on in his former guardian's eyes as he lifted one of the bayonets. A flash of understanding passed in Matthew's eyes before he lunged forward to try and stop his brother.

_Too late._

The sharp point pierced straight through Alfred's heart and he stumbled backwards. He smirked at his brothers as he felt the winds picking up. He wanted to laugh at the confusion and horror in their faces and the ignorance of the soldiers while his people quickly got shelter. It was only when the first house collapsed that either knew exactly what was going on.

"Hurricane!" came the panicked screams of soldiers who tried to run; tried to evacuate only to be cut down by flying debris. Matthew stared in shock at his brother and winced as he felt his people dying. England copied the moves of Canada as he stared at the furious storm with a look of amazement and almost admiration.

Eventually it became clear that Canada and England had to retreat or risk losing more soldiers. The two left without as much as a glance at the fallen brother. They left and Alfred just lay there alone. The blood pouring from his wound felt cool, like the rain that was coming down and putting out the fires. It soothed him, and for a moment all he wanted to do was just lie there in a pool of his own blood.

Only when the last of the fiery embers died out, did Alfred pull out the bayonet, allowing the hurricane to slowly dissipate and leave nothing but the destruction as a reminder of what happened. After a while, people started to come out of their homes and look around. Many tried to search for something, anything that was left of the library, treasury, _white house_, but the only thing any of them found was ash and soggy papers that tore once you tried to pick them up.

It was President Madison who finally found Alfred.

"I'm sorry," was all he managed to say as sadness filled his eyes. As he stared at the spaced out nation, the other's entire front soaked in blood, he felt rage bubble and lash out in his stomach, turning his sorrowful gaze into a hard and calculating one. That was when Alfred moved.

"Look," he whispered. The President glanced at the other in confusion. Instead of an explanation the boy merely pointed up. The taller man followed where the boy was pointing only to see nothing but blue-

Oh.

"It's a nice color," he commented with a smile. America smiled back. No matter what happened, the sky was blue. The sky was blue, and he would be fine. Alfred knew it. He'd be **fine**.

"Alfred?" Madison whispered. The boy turned to look at his boss. He smiled.

"By the end of this year, boss, this war will be over," Alfred finally said. Mutual silence fell over the pair. They simply stared up at the sky, the bright blue sky, and knew.

**We'll be fine.**

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><p><strong>So there it is... it took a while to actually write this ^^<strong>

**Dear me that ending seems so cheesy and rushed and I JUST DON'T KNOW HOW TO END IT I'M SORRY! And so I hope that you really liked this… or not, your choice. Btw, I know there are a lot of these stories coming out but I figured I might as well write a pro-America one. I mean, at this time Canada was a **_**colony**_** so it wouldn't make sense for the burning of his colony to be as painful to him as it was to America. At least, it didn't in my head canon. If you disagree I'm sorry but please don't flame. If it makes you feel better there are plenty of other fics out there that have the damage be the same. **

**Anyway, another part of my head canon is that Arthur wasn't in any of the battles before this one because he was busy in Europe with Napoleon and stuff, so the Burning of Washington was one of the few battles he **_**actually**_** appeared. What this means is whatever you make it mean so…**

**R&R please ^^ **


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